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Beth likes to think she's grown a lot since the world went crazy. Even more so since the prison fell and it's just been her and Daryl. She's fond of him, very much so, but he's not exactly the warm and fuzzy type. She's gotten tougher, stronger. At least, she wants to think so.

And, damn it, wanting a real bed and walls without holes does not make that any less true.

Try telling that to Daryl, though.

"I'm not sayin' we just grab our stuff and take off for anywhere, Daryl." She huffs and tries to catch his eye, but he's very determinedly not listening. Nobody needs that much concentration sharpening knives. "But, it can't hurt to look around a little. This cabin's, like, a hundred years old. Any day know, it's gonna come right down on us."

Running, running. It seemed like all they'd done since the prison fell was to run. Aside from the odd moment stolen to partake of some Moonshine and arson, they'd been steady going. Finally, when the weather started to turn colder and the wear and tear of constant running took its toll. They found shelter where they could, but nothing was ever secure. It always turned into another flight for their lives.

Tonight, they'd holed up in an old storage unit. The mostly empty unit was shelter enough, secure enough with its rolling, metal door. The only real problem was that it didn't have any insulation to speak of and the bitterly cold night air blew in through the cracks.

They'd fashioned a place to sleep. It was bed-like, with the wooden pallets and scraps of old furniture and linens. After weeks of sleeping wherever they could, mostly on the hard ground, it was almost, kinda, sorta comfortable... if it wasn't in a deep freeze.

"Daryl," Beth sighed, fighting to stay patient. "You can't sleep on the floor. It's like a sheet of ice. Just get up here, already."

It's time for some change...

Just be reasonable!